


Kangaroo Care

by TonyStarkissist



Series: IronDad Bingo [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Baby Peter Parker, Clingy Peter Parker, Codependency, Family Fluff, Gen, Kangaroo Care, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 00:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarkissist/pseuds/TonyStarkissist
Summary: “It is commonly referred to as‘Kangaroo Care’, sir. The skin-to-skin contact is proven to enhance a child's immune system, calm its heart rate, and increase familial bond between parent and child.”Irondad Bingo Fic #2AU: Biological Dad





	Kangaroo Care

The surprise Tony felt when he opened his front door to a vaguely familiar woman, from a night about 8 months prior, shoving a small bundle of blankets into his arms before running off was unprecedented. He spluttered and stuttered, holding the bundle of blankets awkwardly. Keeping it far away from his chest while he stared at it with a crazed look in his eyes. _What the hell?_

“Wha-What?” He eventually muttered confusedly, reverting his gaze into quick glances between the bundle he was holding and the retreating woman rushing across his front lawn.

“I believe it is a baby, sir,” JARVIS responded coolly from inside the house, snapping the man out of his indignant stupor. 

“Yeah-yeah, but _why?_ ” He questioned stupidly, reluctantly stepping back into the house, closing the door slowly as if in hopes the woman would change her mind and turn back to whisk away the terrifying responsibility. 

“Well, if circumstances serve the situation correctly, I do believe Ms. Fitzpatrick left you in care of her child because _you_ are it's father.”

“Not possible,” Tony argues firmly, staring down angrily at the tight bundle. “I always use protection.”

“Of course, sir. Whatever was I thinking. All forms of protection have been legitimately proven to have a 100% success rate at every use. How could I forget,” JARVIS responded sarcastically.

Tony, not in the mood to argue with his stupidly snarky AI, simply took the jab and continued into his home with a slight wobble to his step. Neither said a word as Tony slowly found his way back in his living room, peeling away at the layers of blanket cautiously to reveal what lay underneath. He panicked when the bundle started to move. He jolted back from the surprise when he heard a noise. There was snuffling and whining, and Tony's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he stared down at the small baby. The smallest he had ever seen. 

The eyes weren’t open, it was still all wrinkly, and it’s movements were odd and mechanical as his tiny limbs flopped around in short spurts of movement with no discernible means of purpose. It was - it was creepily fascinating to watch.

“Wha-what's it doing?”

“Its moving, sir,” JARVIS answered bluntly.

“Okay-okay, I can do this,” he muttered. He could do this… right?

***

It had barely even been two days, and he was already failing. Miserably so, might he add.

“Why is he screaming?!” Tony shouted over the loud wails emitting from the tiny, tiny child. He bounced the red-faced, wrinkly baby in his arms as he paced back and forth in front of his coffee table. The kid's gummy mouth was stretched as far open as it could to make sure he could muster the maximum volume as he released his ear-splitting screams. He’d been doing it for almost an entire hour, and Tony didn’t have any idea as to what he had done wrong...

“Has he been fed?” JARVIS questioned.

“Yeah, right before he started screaming.”

“Did you burp him?”

“Yeah,” he whined petulantly, bouncing just a little more desperately.

“Is his diaper dirty?”

Tony paused in disgust and stared down at the lump hiding an oversized diaper. He grimaced, but pulled at the waistband of the child’s pants to check anyway.

“No, it’s clean.” He answered curtly. “Call Pepper. I need help.”

It took a couple seconds, but JARVIS eventually answered. “Miss. Potts could not be reached.”

“Call Happy.”

“Mr. Hogan could not be reached.”

“Rhodey! Call Rhodey!” Tony pleaded desperately, becoming increasingly more frantic as his options quickly dissipated. 

What if there was something seriously wrong with his newborn child? Is it possible that he could have really screwed up so badly so quickly??? He needed someone. Someone that could be trusted with precious, fragile things, because apparently he was _not_ that person, despite the small reassurances he had been showering himself with since his son had come into his care two nights ago. He couldn’t do this by himself...

“Colonel Rhodes could not be reached.”

“Oh god,” Tony whined, almost crying out of his pure unadulterated fear and frustration while _his son_ continued to wail loudly in his arms. The bouncing wasn’t working… Isn’t that what you were supposed to do? “What do I do? What do I do? JARVIS tell me what I have to do.”

The silence he received was almost deafening. He needed _help_. He couldn’t do this on his own anymore… why did he think he could do this?? _Oh God..._

“I have found a common practice performed with newborn premature infants which yields significantly positive effects, if you would like to try?”

“Yes, yes, yes! What is it? Do I need to call the hospital? Is he sick?” Tony questioned frantically, dropping his gaze hurriedly to the very, very newborn child. Geez, maybe he did need to go to the hospital. Babies probably weren’t supposed to be this small.

“That will not be necessary sir. I will talk you through the procedure. First, you must remove the child's clothing, but I'd advise leaving the diaper.”

Tony's eyebrows raised suspiciously, but he busied himself with removing the infants clothes anyway, doing his best not to jostle him more than what was necessary. 

“Alright, now, you need to find a soft blanket.” JARVIS instructs when Tony finishes with his task.

Tony rushed around the room in search of a blanket suitable for his needs. He found it, thankfully, and rushed back to the living room. 

“Good, now you must remove your own shirt and lie down on the-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? What the hell is this?”

JARVIS responded as if it weren’t even at all a weird thing to be asking his maker to remove his clothing in order to soothe a screaming child. Tony wasn’t well-versed in child care or anything, but _what the heck?_

“It is commonly referred to as _‘Kangaroo Care’_ , sir. The skin-to-skin contact is proven to enhance a child's immune system, calm its heart rate, and increase familial bond between parent and child.”

“Okay, sure, but how is that supposed to stop him from screaming??” He questioned incredulously, quickening his bouncing.

“It is often a difficult transition for premature infants, going from the mother's womb and into the outside world. It is a scary and unfamiliar experience that can bring young babies much distress, especially with a lengthy period of lacking the familiarity of his/her mother’s voice. This practice helps to surround them in a somewhat familiar and comforting environment because it is similar to the closeness they experienced while in the womb, and it is proven to assist in calming distressed infants. It may also help him in recognizing you as his father and develop a close bond with him early on so he is not as uncomfortable with his lack of a mother.”

Tony paused, his mouth open, bouncing coming to a static standstill as he slowly processed what JARVIS was telling him to do.

“Screw this,” he grumbled, struggling to pull his shirt over his head while holding the baby in the crook of his arm. It would have been funny with the way he was stomping and wriggling and throwing himself around in a desperate attempt to get the piece of clothing off his body as quickly as possible. He just wanted the screaming to stop, and it was much more difficult removing his shirt with one arm preoccupied. 

He growled in frustration as he threw the mess of fabric on the ground after ripping it over his head. He quickly plopped down on the couch and adjusted his grip on the baby unsuredly. He could already feel the uncanny warmth spreading across his bare chest as he cradled his son close.

“What now JARVIS?”

“Lie down on your back, then place the child's head atop your breasts-”

“Last I checked JARVIS,” Tony gritted out as he slowly leaned back into the cushions of the couch nervously, “I do not have breasts.”

“I apologize,” JARVIS amended, “I'm reading the instructions directly off the page. The gesture is usually performed by mothers-”

“Then why am I doing this?” The man questioned frantically. Already panicking as he lowered himself all the way onto the couch, holding the screeching baby above him, away from his body, “I'm not his mother.”

“That is correct,” JARVIS responded, sounding as tired and irritated as an AI could be when his human was being ridiculous and utterly stupid. “But when the mother is not available, the father may step in as a replacement. Now, place your son on your chest, right below your collarbone.”

Tony did as he was told and lowered his son gently onto his chest, rearranging the small limbs so he would be able rest comfortably. 

Tony felt a shiver run down his spine at the direct contact. His heart beating frantically in his chest. It made him jittery, nervous, uncomfortable, but he needed the screaming to stop...

The crying didn't stop though. It simply became more of a muffled scream when the boy smushed his cheek against his father's broad chest, unable to open his mouth as wide as he wished. 

“Now, you must place the blanket over the both of you.” JARVIS spoke, quietening his voice.

Tony draped the blanket over them, but the child still continued to wail.

He was just about to give up and announce JARVIS’ suggestion as inane and ludicrous, but then the wailing stopped abruptly. The sudden silence left an irritating ringing in his ears, but… wow. _It worked_. His eyes widened in surprise and he strained his neck so he could look at the baby sprawled comfortably across his chest. The baby's wails had quieted, and were replaced by soft snuffles and pitiful whines as his tiny fists curled and uncurled over his father's heart. 

He could feel a tiny nose press into his sternum, and tiny, tiny fingertips ghosted over his chest. He had the sudden urge to reach up and grab onto the tiny fingers, so he did. He carefully lifted his arm and gently nudged at the palm of the baby’s hand with the edges of his fingers, slowly curling and unfurling the child’s tiny knuckles just to see...

“He’s so small,” he whispered softly in a rush of amazed wonderment as his son’s tiny fingers carefully curled around his thumb in a tight grip. He was just so… so tiny. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the top of his son's head. The warmth of the small body seeped into his core and his heart softened as he was hit with the realization. A late one at that. It’d been nearly two days and he had never truly comprehended the fact that _he was a father now_. This was his son. Those were his son’s soft breaths being puffed out onto his bare skin. Those were his son’s small fingers wrapped around his large thumb. _His son._

“Sir, I do believe it is working,” JARVIS spoke softly.

Tony's gaze didn't break away, and neither did his affectionate smile. 

“Yeah, it is,” he whispered distractedly, raising his other hand to slowly lower onto his baby's back. His large hand almost consumed the entirety of his tiny son and his smile softened even more if that were possible. 

He didn't know how long he laid there on that couch with his son snuffling on his chest, and he didn’t care. This was his new favorite thing. 

The snuffling turned into soft, quiet cooes and eventually, the baby fell into a fitful sleep, complete with fitful, movement inducing dreams. Tony closed his eyes peacefully, dropping his head back to rest on the arm of the couch, allowing his thumb to stroke the back of his son's fragile neck. 

***

Only a month later and ‘Kangaroo Care’, as people called it, had officially became his new go-to move whenever his son was in distress. He hated when Peter would cry. It hurt his ears, and his heart. His attachment to the baby was becoming almost worrying.

Typically, Tony would prefer going through the comforting procedure without an audience, but sometimes he had to set aside his own insecurities and take care of his son, because that was his job now. 

So, the first time Pepper had witnessed his impromptu strip, it had taken her by surprise. She had been his PA for a few years at that time, and, yeah, she was somewhat used to his eccentricity already, and she was only slowly getting used to the new addition into the Stark family.

She had been holding the tiny, sleeping infant in her arms, rocking him slowly back and forth in her as she monitored the mundanely slow rising and dropping of SI stocks. Then, out of nowhere, the child jolted awake, with wide, wandering eyes, and had apparently decided to start wailing because of the terrifying transition from dreamland to reality… Pepper didn't know what she was supposed to do, but the boy's father apparently did. Before she even had time to properly react, out came Tony Stark with a stern look on his face, striding towards her with a deep-settled purpose behind his eyes as he reached for the hem of his shirt… _what?_

Tony had already been heading to the room when he heard it. Peter was crying, and he didn't know how he knew, but he did. He knew exactly what that cry meant. 

It was weird. He knew all Peter’s cries now. All of them were different, because his son was already so smart and he always knew what he wanted. Sometimes the boy was hungry, other times he was scared or uncomfortable, and most of the time he just wanted to be held. That was the most common cry he heard out of the boy's small mouth, and that seemed to be the only cry that resulted in him tearing off his shirt without even taking a moment to think about it.

That's why, without a thought or ounce of hesitation in Pepper’s presence, he threw off his shirt, acting on nothing else but the muscle memory he had developed after doing this numerous times since Peter had come into his life. 

“Tony,” Pepper spluttered, watching with wide eyes as the man threw his oily t-shirt on the ground and grabbed the blanket slung over the back of the couch he passed along his way of walking towards to her. 

He said nothing and barely spared her a glance as he carefully reached for his son cradled in her arms. Then, in one fluid and practiced movement, he removed his sons short sleeved onesie and pulled him against his chest before retreating backwards to the couch. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed softly, slowly lowering them both onto the couch. 

A softness Pepper had never seen before lingered behind his eyes while the man affectionately shushed and coddled his newborn son. 

Peter's cries almost quieted instantly, and Tony draped the blanket over them and closed his eyes to bask in the peace. When Peter had calmed in a restful sleep again, Tony risked a glance to his right, where Pepper was still seated in the armchair adjacent to the couch, watching the spectacle with wide eyes. 

“Sorry,” he apologized to her in a whisper, placing his steady hand over his son's back just as he usually did. “I don't like it when he cries, and this is the quickest way to calm him down.”

Pepper nodded mutely, and she didn't question him, returning her gaze to the currently rising stocks in hopes the man wouldn’t spot her smile and reddened cheeks.

She eventually got used to it, and she didn't even blink an eye anymore when her boss would magically appear in the room whenever and wherever his son started to cry before immediately beginning to strip half naked.

***

Tony remembered vividly the first time he had to leave his son overnight. It had been an irksome farewell for both parties involved. Peter had just turned two and was already beginning to fit together sentences with his limited vocabulary. 

“Daddy,” he whined miserably into his father’s shoulder as he hugged him goodbye, “don’ go. P’ease don’ go.”

Tony rubbed his back and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head, trying not to tear up when he felt a small wet spot start to form on his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to bambino,” he whispered softly, breathing in the scent of his son’s familiar, fruity Watermelon shampoo, “but I have to. It’s just for a night.” 

“Don’ go,” Peter moaned again in a last ditch attempt to get his father to stay.

Tony hadn’t wanted to go, he really didn't, but he’d been putting off the trip for almost an entire year… and it needed to get done. Though, he would admit, the greeting he received when he returned home was well worth the night’s separation.

“Daddy!” That was the first thing he heard when he opened his front door. He had barely stepped foot into the foyer before Peter was skidding around the corner on wobbly feet and rushing up to his father. His little-boy face contorted into a scarily mortified expression and his mouth fell open to release a loud pitiful wail as soon as he layed eyes on his father, reaching up his tiny arms and waving around his chubby fingers so his father would lift him up.

“Daddy!” He sobbed harshly, filling his father with a worried fear as he reached out to scoop up his son and hold him close. “Oh Daddy!”

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Tony questioned hastily, eager to figure out what was wrong with his son so he could fix it and stop the dreaded tears and sorrowful wails.

“Miss you,” Peter whimpered miserably, going lax in his father’s arm as soon as he was in the familiar hold.

“Aw,” Tony cooed in relief, “I missed you too buddy.”

He slowly rocked his son as the little boy continued to sob softly in his arms. A dopey grin spread across his face and warmth filled his chest as he toed off his shoes by the door. He’d barely even made it a few steps into the Living Room before he felt an insistent tugging at the collar of his crisp, white shirt. Which was followed by several head-buts administered above his collarbone as his son attempted to nuzzle closer.

At first he wasn’t too sure what Peter was asking for, and he should have, but he didn’t. So, Peter continued to tug harshly at the collar fisted in his tiny hand. Irritated grunts and strangled whimpers were let out as he pushed his face away from his father’s chest to tug more aggravatedly at the cloth. Tears streamed down his blotchy cheeks in waves, and Tony started to worry again. Peter rarely got so distressed, but he supposed it might have been an appropriate reaction for the _‘trauma’_ he had to endure while being away from his father for the first time.

Then, as if the buildup of frustration for his father’s inability to understand what he wanted, he threw his head back and released a blood-curdling scream. Wailing loudly as he continued to tug at the collar frantically. His grip growing weaker as his efforts to voice his aggravation absorbed his remaining energy.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, what’s wrong bambino?” He questioned worriedly, dropping onto the couch next to Rhodey, who was seeming to feel just as worried at the child's outburst.

The only answer he received was another pitiful wail followed by violent sobs and more tears.

“I believe Master Peter would like you to re-administer ‘Kangaroo Care’ as the primary form of comfort,” JARVIS announced.

Tony’s eyes widened. He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of that.

“We haven’t done that in months,” he responded softly, smiling affectionately at his son despite his distressed wails as he reached up to undo his tie.

It warmed his heart all over again, and he purposely ignored his best friend’s knowing grin as he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. He didn’t even have time to shrug the shirt the rest of the way off before Peter was surging forward and leeching to his father’s front.

The wailing stopped, replaced by soft sobs as Peter pressed his face firmly into his father’s sternum, wrapping his little arms around the man’s waist as he tried to pull himself closer.

“Alright, alright buddy,” Tony laughed, twisting on the couch to slowly lower himself the rest of the way on the couch, “patience.”

It hadn’t even been 10 seconds before Peter started to wriggle uncomfortably atop his chest, face contorting into frustration once again as he started tugging at the hem of his own shirt.

“Want yours off too buddy?” Tony asked softly, reaching up to rub his baby’s back soothingly. 

He felt the curt nod and choked sob that followed it. Peter fell limp against him, so Tony reached for the hem of the boy’s shirt to slowly lift it over his head.

“That better?” Tony asked softly, kissing the top of his son’s head as he tossed the small t-shirt to Rhodey sitting at his feet.

“Yeah,” Peter murmured softly, nuzzling close and humming contentedly.

“Miss you Daddy.”

“I missed you too buddy.”

***

Fairly soon after Peter learned to walk and how to break out of his crib, Tony had had to stop wearing shirts to bed.

Peter had developed the tendency to sneak into his room during the night, due to his extreme separation anxiety. The doctor said it should dissipate as he grew older, but still, at three years old, his son continued to climb into his bed nearly twice a week.

The first time he had done it, he nearly had a heart attack right there in his bed. Peter had crawled on top of him, and he was a heavy sleeper so he didn’t even wake until Peter released a distressed wail as he clawed desperately at the form-fitting tank top he had decided to wear to bed. So, to avoid incidents like that again, Tony made the decision to go without it so Peter wouldn’t grow so distressed at his inability to wake him after a bad nightmare.

He had only woke up with Peter sprawled over his chest a few times before he had had to leave him overnight for the first time. Though, after he had returned, Peter’s nightmares and anxiety grew a bit worse, and it wasn’t as much as an unfamiliar surprise when he woke to the toddler nuzzled into his sternum while sucking on his little thumb. 

He knew it was probably unhealthy to encourage Peter’s codependency the way he was, but even when he tried convincing the kid to go cold turkey on the ‘Kangaroo Care’, the boy’s lip would wobble pitifully and his breathing would pick up in a panic. Worried he would send his own son into his first panic attack at such a young age, Tony decided to avoid the topic entirely. It wasn’t like he disliked the contact anyways.

***

His first thought when he glanced in the mirror to find a metal magnet embedded in his sternum was a deep-rooted distress, because that was Peter’s place. That was exactly where Peter would lay his head after a bad nightmare or upon his return when an overnight trip was taken by his father. That was Peter’s… That spot had belonged to his son.

He tore at the fabric surrounding it in a panic, willing for it all just to be a terrible, terrible dream. His breaths came in spurts and he knew his eyes were wide and frightened. All he could think about was Peter. How Peter was going to feel when he learned his father wasn’t coming home when promised. How he was going to look when he found that _his_ spot had been replaced by a metallic circle when he tried to nuzzle into his father’s chest on his return… if he ever returned.

That was the only thing that kept him going in that cave. It was Peter. And even though he was dreading having to see the distraught look on his little face, he still needed to get home to him. There were still so many things they needed to do together. So many things he wished to do with him that he had wished to do with his own father as a child. He still needed to teach him how to catch. He still needed to take him to his first day of school, first concert, first sleepover, first day of college. They needed to finish that robot project they started. He needed to be there to trade his first tooth with a quarter. He needed to be there for his first love, so he could comfort him during his first broken heart. He needed to teach him how to shave, how to drive, how to run a company… There were just so many things he needed to do, and Peter was still so young. He couldn’t give up now, he needed to get back to his son.

So, that’s exactly what he did.

His face was stiff as he watched the plane door opened to him, drowning the dark cabin with bright light emitting from the sun, with Rhodey by his side promising him that he’d see Peter soon. He fought the urge to run, because he desperately wanted to see his son, but he didn’t want to see the betrayal his five-year-old son would certainly feel when he realized what was now residing in his father’s chest.

Thankfully, Peter didn’t notice it until later that night, when they were in the privacy of their own home… he had hidden it well thank goodness.

His son was just barely five years old, he knew because he missed his birthday, and the 3 month long separation had seemed to run the boy dry of fresh tears. He simply hugged his father the rest of the day, refusing to let go of him, and completely forgetting about their usual ritual upon a joyously distressing return because of his tired stupor. 

Then, that night, he woke up in a panic when he heard the rustling of his sheets while his son climbed onto his bed.

He wasn’t a light sleeper anymore…

“Daddy?” Peter questioned confusedly, pausing at the foot of his bed, eyeing his father warily, because no matter how much noise he would make at night, his father never woke unless he was crying.

“Peter,” Tony breathed out in relief, clutching at his chest and falling back into his pillow as he did his best to absorb the pain spreading across his chest. “What’s wrong? Nightmare?”

Peter didn’t answer, instead, his eyes fixed onto the bright blue light emitting from his father’s bare chest. He crawled forward and straddled the man’s stomach so he could get a better look. He ran a small finger along the outer rim of the magnet and Tony had to choke back the tears as he watched his son study the new implant curiously.

“What’s this Daddy?”

“It’s a magnet,” Tony choked out, “It keeps Daddy’s heart beating from now on.”

He needed Peter to understand. He desperately needed him to understand… 

“Oh.” Came his small response as he cocked his head to the side curiously. Tony held his breath.

“Okay,” Peter yawned noncommittally, grinning at his father and collapsing on top of him just as he usually did. Only this time… instead of the comforting warmth, there was a resounding clank and he immediately felt a searing pain along his right cheekbone.

His eyes watered and he sat up to glare at the device offendedly.

“That hurt,” he whined, rubbing at his cheek with a few stubborn tears leaking through.

“Oh, bambino, I’m so sorry.” Tony jumped to apologize, sitting up abruptly and cradling his son’s face in his hands, running his thumb along the red mark lit up by the blue glow of his new RT. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’s ‘kay,” Peter mumbled tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. He pushed at his father’s chest and they both layed down, this time Peter resting his head gently beside the magnet instead of the familiar spot right beneath the center of his collarbone.

It only took a couple more occurences just like that for Tony to start wearing a shirt to bed again. Peter would end up cutting and bruising his cheek or forehead as a result of his Stark stubbornness. Even despite the uncomfortable RT, Peter still wanted to lay his head on his father’s chest, because that’s what he’d always done, ever since he was a baby-baby. So, for a little added cushioning, Tony started to wear soft cotton t-shirts to bed, in hopes it would prevent any future injuries.

He didn’t have to worry very long, because it wasn’t long after that that Peter stopped climbing into his bed at night.

***

Peter was nine when Tony decided to get the arc reactor removed from his chest. The device had proved to be doing more harm to him than good. So, with a lot of stubborn protests on Peter’s part, Tony made the wise decision to remove, what Peter had dubbed from a young age as ‘Daddy’s nightlight’.

Peter was immensely upset when his father explained his decision to him. The arc reactor is what made him Iron Man! It was his nightlight when he was scared of the dark! But he understood why his dad wanted to do what he did, because he could tell it made his dad hurt sometimes.

Tony was five months into recovery when Peter scurried into the Living room, where his father was relaxing, with his head bowed and a cute, pleading expression adorning his face. Tony was lounging with his back pressed against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out on the cushions in front of him. Peter climbed into his lap, despite the fact that he was ‘ _too old to sit in your lap Daddy, because I’m a big boy now.’_

“What’s up buddy?” Tony questioned worriedly.

“Can-can I see it?” Peter asked hesitantly, reaching out to press down on one of his father’s shirt buttons.

“It’s an ugly scar Peter,” Tony smiled softly, reaching out to comb a hand through the boy’s hair. “Nothing special.”

“I wanna see it,” the boy protested stubbornly, fixing his father with a stern glare and pouting lip.

The man chuckled at his defiance and sighed to himself. He reached up to undo the top three buttons of his button-down, pulling at the edges just enough to reveal the circlish scar that had replaced the reactor implant. 

Peter studied it intently for a moment, reaching out to trace the defined scar tissue outlining a circle. He looked worried.

“Does-does it hurt?”

“No buddy, it doesn’t hurt.” Tony reassured him quickly, releasing his shirt to cup the side of his son’s face with his hand. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Peter bites his lip and nods his head, obviously upset, but his gaze doesn’t break away from the nasty scar the procedure had left behind as a reminder of the genius’ trama.

Tony frowned. He never like it when his son was upset.

“You know,” he mused with a hum; he needed to make Peter smile again, because that was his job. Peter’s eyes met his briefly before falling back to the man’s chest. “When you were just a little baby, you used to lay your head right here all the time.” He points to the center of scar, right above his sternum.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled shyly, looking up at his father.

“Yeah,” Tony affirmed with a small grin. “It was sorta like our thing ever since you were a teeny tiny baby, you can ask Pepper. I’d hear you screaming your little heart out and I’d just waltz in the room, throw my shirt off and put you on my chest. You’d stop crying every time.” Tony bopped Peter on the nose good naturedly.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Every time?”

Tony nodded with a peaceful smile adorning his face.

“Every single time bambino. I even remember when you were two and I thought you were completely over cuddling with me… then, I had to leave for just a day, Peter. A day. My goodness, you were such a dramatic little thing,” Tony rolled his eyes good naturedly and Peter giggled. “Yep, I waltzed in the door the next day and the minute you saw me you started screaming and sobbing until I layed down with you on the couch just like this, and you _stopped_.” He finished with a dramatic raise of his brows and widened eyes. “You can ask Uncle Rhodey, I swear it.”

Peter giggled again, and Tony smiled lovingly at his son, because he wanted to cherish every single moment he had with him before he grew up anymore than he already had.

Then Peter pressed his hand flat on his father’s chest, right over the scar, and stared at it curiously. A meaningful silence fell over the pair, and Tony settled for watching over his son while he studied the center of his chest with a considering quirk to his brow. Then, slowly, Peter seemed to make up his mind. He lowered his head and replaced his hand with his left cheek, closing his eyes contentedly as he molded against his father with a warm familiarity blooming in his stomach.

“Just like this Daddy?” Peter questioned timidly, reaching out in search of his father’s large hand.

“Yeah,” Tony choked out through his tears, placing his other hand on his boy’s back. “Just like that Pete.”

The boy’s fingers curled around his large thumb and Tony felt a puff of breath whisp over his bare chest. His heart stuttered and he breathed out shakily as his right hand moved up to curl into his son’s hair.

“I love you so much bambino. You’ll always be my baby, no matter how old you get.” He closed his eyes and pressed his face firmly into his son’s unruly curls.

“I know Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just - this came to me in the middle of the night last night and I just HAD to write it. Gosh!
> 
> Thx so much for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it :)
> 
> This is part of the IronDad Bingo Fics I'm writing. I'm gonna try and do all 25.


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